The Sixth Age Part 1

I really like reading the Percy Jackson books and decided to make one myself, but with Aztec gods and goddesses. We'll see how it goes! Other parts will be released shortly.

So to start out, my name it Felipe Guterez. To answer the question everyone always asks me, no, I’m not totally Hispanic.

My father’s family was totally Hispanic. Trace him back far enough, and you’ve got him going through Mexico, and to Spain.

But since I live in San Jose California, that’s nothing now. That’s why I’m more interested in my mother’s side. She is pure-breed Aztec.

No. Not the people with the whole 2012 thing. That was the Mayans. The Aztecs are those guys who were beat up by Cortez because they thought he was a god. Crazy, right?

But I’m really interested in Aztecs. My mother knows a lot about Aztec mythology and everything.

Unfortunately, my father died a few years ago by a swimming accident. He was swimming, and the water suddenly got really fast. He drowned.

But I try not to think about it too much.

I looked at my dog, Chan. Weird name? I know. My mother gave her to me after my father died, and told me to name it Chan, after the Aztec goddess Chantico. She was the goddess of the Home, and apparently ate some paprika or something, and got turned into a dog. Crazy? Yeah. So were the Aztecs.

Chan was a little Chihuahua. She was just a baby, and she was so adorable. I walked over to her, and stroked her back. Of course she was asleep. No respectable puppy would let you do that to them if the were aware of it.

I picked up Chan, and held her. She fit in the palm of my hand, she was so small.

When I heard the door open, Chan’s head popped up to see who was home. But it was obviously Mom.

When Chan saw that, she jumped out of my hand, and playfully yipped at Mom.

“Oh hello Chantico!” Mom liked saying Chantico better.

“Hola mama.” I said. I use Spanish a lot in the house to kind of remember Dad. It helps a lot.

“Oh right! That reminds me.” she said, “While I was at work, a friend of mine told me that we should go on vacation to Mexico.”

“Mexico? Like, us two and your friend?”

“And her daughter. She’s your age. Fifteen. I think her name is Car-Carcarcar. I don’t know. Starts with C-a-r.”

“Where’s this friends husband?”

“Divorced.”

I nodded. I was happy. A girl my age? How cool is that?!?!

She better be cute.

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